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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646810">drabble collection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaDione/pseuds/AthenaDione'>AthenaDione</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU, Justice League Dark: Apokolips War (2020), Justice League vs. Teen Titans (2016), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Teen Titans: The Judas Contract (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, One shot prompts, Sexual Content, currently accepting all the raven ships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:00:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,547</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaDione/pseuds/AthenaDione</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of One-Shot prompts (link in first chapter)</p><p> </p><p>Currently accepting RobRae requests.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Raven/Damian Wayne, Raven/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. #19 JayRae</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Collection of one-shots from <a href="https://athenadione.tumblr.com/post/643602297040027648/prompt-list-5">these</a> prompts.</p><p><a href="https://athenadione.tumblr.com/ask">Click Here</a> to request on tumblr.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>'you should stay and drink Earl Grey'</strong>
</p><p><strong>Pairing:</strong> JayRae</p><p><strong>Words:</strong> 1,387</p><p><strong>Rated:</strong> M for cursing and minor scenes of NSFW</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jason is instantly awake when he hears rummaging in his apartment, though he doesn’t move. Adrenaline shoots up his spine and a million questions are immediately running through his mind. Who is inside, why, what are they doing in his kitchen, and how in the goddamn world did they get through every single one of his alarms?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First he thinks it’s a bat— or a bird. Baby birds and little wings have an annoying tendency of showing up at his safe houses without knocking first, and nearly getting shot at as a consequence. He can’t even count the number of times Replacement almost got a bullet to the chest. At least the brat is smart enough to give him a heads up before traipsing through his front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he hears the soft padding of feet through the tile of his kitchen and everything from last night pours into his mind, filling his senses. Heavy panting and rough, broken pleas. Pale, smooth, legs trembling with effort from his ministrations. The taste of her, still lingering on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So it is a bird. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She had come to him in the dead of night, an ethereal goddess, and hadn’t said a word when she slithered into his bed— eyes silently pleading for a distraction from whatever darkness had seeped into the edges of her irises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had understood her need— had come to her with his own a few times when the voices of the Pit were too loud to ignore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been an unspoken rule between the two of them that she could come to him for her needs whenever she wanted. She’d always slip back out just before dawn. The only indication that she had ever been in his bed was the scent she left behind; Lavender and vanilla. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The near silent sounds of swinging cabinets opening and shutting tell him that this morning she stayed, and he doesn’t know what to do about the feeling that reverberates in his chest as a result. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits up in his bed slowly, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes, and the sheets fall to bunch around his waist. Stretching sore leg muscles from the previous night, he yawns and shuffles around his room to throw on some sweatpants that had been tossed into a heap on the floor shortly after she came to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This apartment has two bedrooms and a full kitchen— one of the reasons he chose this as one of his main safe houses. That plus the full landscape view of Crime Alley below makes for a short commute to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all the times he’s stumbled into his apartment after dark, he’s memorized how many steps it takes to get to the kitchen, and they’re near silent across the linoleum when it comes into view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight before him makes him pause mid-step, causing another unrecognizable pang through his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her back is turned to him and he notices his t-shirt she’s wearing practically drowns her, and his first thought is how such a powerful demoness can be so damn small. Then his eyes sweep the rest of her figure. One arm is stretched out, searching in one of his cupboards while the other is braced against the kitchen counter. Standing up on her tiptoes, his shirt raises a few scant inches, barely covering her ass. He vaguely notices the kettle pot she’s already found has begun to boil water over the heated stove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she lets go of a gentle hum in the back of her throat when she pulls her arm out of the cabinet, taking with her two mugs and two blended packets of Earl Grey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches as the movement to bring both mugs back down with her causes one sleeve of his shirt to slide down to reveal a pale, bare shoulder, and she makes an effort to close the cabinet, making as little noise as possible in an obvious attempt to avoid waking him. Once she completes her quest, the smile of victory that graces her lips shortly causes an emotion he can’t interpret to swell in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know why this particular moment takes his breath away, because this isn’t anything that is considered out of the ordinary, but it does completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The simple act of brewing tea for them both in his t-shirt is so domestic, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>right, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he can’t help but feel like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>belongs </span>
  </em>
  <span>here— not just in his kitchen or in his apartment, but with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you are so fucking cute.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment is lost when she promptly tenses every muscle in her body as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and the smirk that soon plays at his lips is natural because anytime he’s able to surprise her is a triumph all on its own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And his smirk grows when she turns to face him with deliberate movements, throwing him a pensive stare that would intimidate anyone else but him. The corners of her mouth tug downwards into a light frown as her eyes flick down at his own figure, hesitating over his bare chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think this,” She gestures over her body with a flippant hand, then picks at a particular spot on his shirt that has a vague, discolored stain, “Is cute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile broadens even further and he takes a few steps closer to her. “Isn’t that what I just said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Princess</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The annoyance is near palpable on her face at the pet name, and she sets down the mugs and tea bags to cross her arms in front of her chest. “Kittens are cute.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.” He doesn’t mention that kittens and ravens are now and forever synonymous in his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babies are cute.” She continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Debatable.” He points out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignores him. “But the ‘early morning after an impromptu rendezvous’ look is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>cute.” She crosses her legs at her ankles and tucks a stray hair that falls in front of her face behind her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason easily crosses the kitchen to reach her, and he encircles his arms on either side of her body, effectively caging her in against the counter. Relishing in the way she instinctively arches against him, he lowers his face until it’s just a few inches from hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry to break it to you Rae, but standing here in my kitchen, wearing nothing but my shirt and making us some Earl Grey is nothing short of adorable.” He tells her. “It’s also sexy as hell.” He adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scowl is her response, but to Jason it just looks like the cutest pout he’s ever seen, and the sudden urge to kiss her has him closing the remaining distance between them to capture her lips with his. She releases a muffled squeak of surprise that really does sound like the mewl of a kitten, but he’s wise enough to not point that out to her, and he places his hands at the swell of her hips to swiftly place her bottom on the counter so that he can deepen their kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She melts against him, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer— allowing him entrance to her mouth when his tongue dances across her bottom lip teasingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses her slowly, smiling against her lips when she urges him to continue, but instead he pulls back to peer into her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stayed.” He states, noticing when her hands release him to fidget in the hem of his shirt. Carefully averting his gaze, she bites her lip. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not cute my ass. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have the day off, and I thought that it would be nice to wake you up with a cup of tea?” She offers and her hands suddenly still as if she suddenly realized the forwardness of her actions. “I should go—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Jason cuts her off, giving her a rare, genuine smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should stay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pauses, looks at him impassively for a minute, until something between them shifts, and she gives him a rare, genuine smile in return. “Okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good…” He steps back when she pushes at his forearms so that she can finish brewing their tea, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Cutie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His echoing laugh fills the kitchen when he narrowly avoids the paper towel roll she throws at him a second later. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. #99 and #100 DamiRae</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>'dousing the flames'</strong>
</p><p><strong>Pairing: </strong>DamiRae</p><p><strong>Words: </strong>1,350</p><p><strong>Rated: T- </strong>Warning for minor graphic scenes of character death</p><p> </p><hr/><p>The first thing she hears is the roar of fire. It’s everywhere. Below and above her. Licking at her heels, its heat at her skin burning through the fabric of her cloak. The smell of smoke fills her nostrils and she coughs vigorously.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>A panic fills her when she scans the city from the roof of Titans Tower. Flames crackle and spiral upwards and they leap from building to building, creating a path of destruction in its wake. They disintegrate and collapse like dominos, so quick and forceful that it causes the entire Tower before her feet to rumble. Then come the screams. <em>Oh, gods</em>, the screams of pure, unadulterated pain and <em>terror</em>. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She tries to move— tries to fly— do anything to stop the blaze, but she finds herself unable to move. <em>No.</em> The fire— It’s caving her in, bringing her to her knees, and the next time she breathes in she’s overcome with the taste of ash. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a sharp, burning sensation on her arms and legs that catch her attention, and when she glances down, they tremble, lighting up with marks of Scath. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A low, omnipresent chuckle fills her ears, filling her with dread. “This is your destiny, daughter. This city will be the first to fall when I break free from these chains. It’s only a matter of time.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>No, no, no.</em> <em>This isn’t happening. This can’t be real. </em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It will come to pass, and I will kill them all. Starting with that wretched boy.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then Damian is before her, eyes filled with horror. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, Damian—” He reaches out for her, and is only able to take one step before flames coil around his ankles and shoot up his entire body, encasing him entirely in a shell of mortar. By the time the fire settles, she sees his mouth set in a silent scream— and then the mortar crumbles into nothing but ash. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Gone.</em> Just like that he’s gone. Shock stills her completely for a moment and she blinks. He was just there and now he’s not and <em>no, oh gods, no,</em> that’s <em>his</em> ashes littering the roof right at her boots—</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Everything that had just transpired in a matter of moments catches up to her all at once and the blood-curdling shriek she releases isn’t human, not even <em>close</em>. Demons and shades alike flinch back and flee at once.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even her father trembles from the sound.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then invisible bonds are at her shoulders, clacking like chains and throwing her back against the roof of the Tower, pressing her against steel that’s so blindingly hot that it instantly eats through her leotard, burning the flesh underneath. So hot, it’s so, so hot, but it’s nothing compared to the sharp, inconsolable stab of pain cutting straight through the depths of her soul because he’s gone, she can’t bring him back, he’s—</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Raven!” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her resounding gasp fills her room as she blindly tries to scratch at the weight on her chest, but something’s holding down her arms. There’s a loud ringing in her ears, it’s pitch black, and she can’t breathe. Why can’t she breathe?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Raven, look at me.” Arms, it’s arms that are holding her down— not chains— and they shake her, the movement jarring her body until she’s forced to look up into orbs of piercing emerald green. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Breathe, <em>habibti</em>.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His voice, it’s his masculine, calming tenor that resonates through her entire being, and a choked sob rises in her throat. <em>“Damian.”</em> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m here.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And just like that, she falls apart. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hot, wet tears are spilling over her cheeks before she can stop them, sobs wracking her entire body, and his face contorts into one of pain, then worry and she barely registers that he’s gathered her in his arms and is now rocking them both gently. Then he’s murmuring into her ear, sweet-nothings that she doesn’t understand but takes comfort from all the same because they’re his words, coming out of his mouth, and he’s <em>alive.</em> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her hands fist in his shirt and she burrows her head into his chest, breathing in his scent of spruce and pine over and over again as her fingers run over the planes of his chest until she’s convinced that he’s real. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She doesn’t know how long it takes before her sobs finally subside, but he waits patiently as he continues to rock them both back and forth, rubbing her back in soothing circles with one hand. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Letting go of one last shuddering breath, she eventually peeks back up at Damian, taking in his furrowed brows. With the last flashes of her dream finally receding, she begins to realize what happened, all too aware of the intimacy of her position in his lap. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He meets her gaze slowly, notices her sudden discomfort, and allows her to pull back from his embrace. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you alright?” He asks quietly, green eyes catching every movement she makes to lean back against her headboard, drawing her legs up to her chest. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah…” She winces at the hoarseness of her voice, like she had swallowed broken glass. “My dream. It was so… vivid… I thought it was real.” Even now, flashes of roaring fire still reverberate in her mind. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She doesn’t have to explain that he was in her dream. From the impassiveness of his gaze she knows that he’s already putting the pieces together. Thankfully he doesn't ask her to describe it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Another silent tear falls down her cheek and he follows it down until it soaks into the satin of her pajamas. His stare turns pensive. Faintly, she wonders if he thinks she’s weak. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry if I woke you.” Her breath hitches as the words leave her mouth, still trying to steady them. A light frown tugs at the corners of his mouth and his eyes narrow slightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You didn’t.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh.” She breaks their stare first, looking intently at her sheets between them. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A nagging worry grows in the back of her mind. Her dreams have been more intense as of late, a sign of her father’s growing strength. Running a hand through her hair, she bites her lip to silence another sob. How in Azar is she going to be able to go back to sleep now?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Beside her, Damian clears his throat, and she glances up at him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Would it help… if I stayed?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Relief floods her and she nods gratefully, even if he looks a bit uncomfortable. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s silent when he draws closer to her, gesturing for her to lay back down. Lifting the covers for her to slide underneath, he settles the comforter around her gently, then settles on top next to her. Her hand reaches out to grasp his wrist and he looks down at her inquisitively.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you.” She whispers, voice still so raw.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His face softens, nearly imperceptible, and it’s almost as if all the years of being forced to grow up too fast— too soon, wash away, and she does everything she can to commit it to memory, desperate to replace the look of horror he had worn in her dream.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sleep, Raven.” He lowers his face to the crown of her head, lips pressing so lightly she barely feels his kiss, but the effect it has on her is so profound it eases her back further into her mattress. He tenses when she tentatively lays her head on his chest, but relaxes with her shortly after, and she nearly hums when he lifts a hand to languidly play with a stray hair, fingers lightly grazing against her cheek.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The feeling he invokes within her spreads, loosening the tension in her chest and she’s left exhausted. Drawing comfort from the steady beat of her heart and the calm in his aura, she allows herself to drift again— fully confident that he’ll be able to wake her in time if she begins to dream again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m here.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s okay. He’s alive, and she will not become Trigon’s portal— not now and not ever. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For once, her father is silent the rest of the night.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. #4 DamiRae</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>'you are good' </strong>
</p><p><strong>Pairing:</strong> DamiRae</p><p><strong>Words</strong>: 1,360</p><p><strong>Rated:</strong> G with implied mature scenes</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote class="">
  <p>This one was a bit more challenging, and definitely mushy. Thank you Vi for being my beta, and giving me some super helpful suggestions to wrap up this one-shot. Vi has her own a03 that you can find <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViLaVi/pseuds/ViLaVi">HERE.</a> The 'feather collection' series is top-notch DamiRae ff. </p>
</blockquote><blockquote class="">
  <p>Hope you enjoy :) -AD</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>At first glance, one would think he’s gazing mindlessly at the television ahead, pondering just how stupid Shaggy can be to open that closet door. And he is, for a moment. </p><p><em> Of course </em> the perpetrator is behind it, ax poised to strike. His brow twitches, distaste tugging at the corners of his mouth. </p><p>He must have hit a new low, resorting to watching Cartoon Network— though that was her show of choice and there’s nothing he will deny her; But how she’s able to watch this show and <em> enjoy </em>it is beyond him. </p><p>She’s not even watching it. It’s more background noise than anything else, but if she’s happy, then what else can he ask for? And he is too… for the most part. </p><p>By the time the whimsical chasing scene ensues his eyes are already glossing over again, hands fisting ever so lightly in his lap as persistent, deprecating thoughts swarm his mind.</p><p>Of all the things to obsess over, he wouldn’t have had the slightest notion it’d be over a flippant comment, but now he can’t stop. </p><p>
  <em> “Are you kidding me? Almost everyone we fight has an identity crisis! How too far gone do you gotta be to not know killing people is wrong? Psychos."</em>
</p><p>Ever since their debriefing this morning after Gar’s mindless jab, one ever-pressing question has been consuming him the entirety of the afternoon. </p><p>And even though Gar couldn’t have known how his words would have affected him, Damian had been surprised to feel the short pang in his chest that spoke of a deeper level of pain and insecurity. One that he realized just then that he hadn’t quite healed from. </p><p>Is he <em> still </em>in the midst of an identity crisis, after all this time? After all of his growth? </p><p>Logically, it makes sense that he would continue to… question himself. After all, he'd been groomed for successorship of the League from birth until he was ten years old, then tossed into a world of vigilantes with strict moral codes that went against everything he had previously learned. </p><p>He had thought he’d come to terms with it all. Especially after living at the monastery. </p><p>It’s true that he still finds himself withholding that final decapitating strike, and maybe more than once he’s considered how much more effective it would be if he didn’t. <em> Justice, not vengeance. </em>He doesn’t know how many times he’s held onto that mantra like a lifeline, especially after he nearly killed Dollmaker. </p><p>Is he really second guessing his rectitude? <em> Surely I’ve established a clear sense of morality by now. I’m not too far gone, no matter what Gar says. </em></p><p>Something pokes at his thigh, pulling him from his thoughts, and he looks down to see a dainty barefoot pressed into his leg, toes wiggling enticingly. Despite his inner calamity, he can’t help the light smirk that plays at his lips. Cute isn’t a word anyone would hear spilling from his mouth, but if he ever had to describe her feet, that’s the word he’d choose. </p><p>His gaze flicks up a pale, slender leg, hovering there a moment, before moving on to the novel that’s now slack in her hands. <em> Jane Eyre— of course. She’s always loved the classics. </em>Continuing his quest up, he reaches pools of lavender— and to his chagrin he finds that they’re filled with mirth. </p><p>“You’re thinking up a literal storm cloud, habibi. You’re supposed to be relaxing.”</p><p>He gives her an affronted glare, though they both know he doesn’t really mean the anger behind it. Grasping the arch of her foot, he arches a brow while he begins to massage it absentmindedly, taking mental note of the soft moan that escapes her lips. “I’d never call watching that ridiculous show relaxing,” he cocks his head, gesturing towards the t.v., “It’s more infuriating than anything— and poor detective work if you ask me.” </p><p>Her lips quirk upwards. “It’s a <em> cartoon </em> , Damian. It’s not meant to be realistic, it’s meant to be funny. <em> Relaxing. </em>”</p><p>“Tt.”</p><p>She nudges him again. “So what’s wrong?” </p><p>He presses his lips together, taking care to keep his face emotionless. “Nothing.”</p><p>When she gives him an inscrutable look he scowls. <em> Of course I had to fall in love with an empath.  </em></p><p>He sighs when she doesn’t relent. Resisting the urge to fidget his leg, he tenses and finds a spot at the floor between his feet. <em> Just ask her.  </em></p><p>“Habibti, am I still… good?” he asks, too tentatively for his taste. </p><p>Raven’s brows draw together and she gives him a reflective, silent stare. He knows that she’s trying to get a read on his emotions, to string together the reason why he would ask such an aimless question. </p><p>It doesn’t take her long to figure it out, and her face softens only a few moments later. “Oh. This is about what Gar said earlier, isn’t it?” </p><p>He frowns and nods once, then turns back to the t.v. The next episode has begun to play, and the music of the theme song does nothing to deter him from the rolling wave of disparate emotions swelling up in his throat. </p><p>Arguably, he had a more traumatic upbringing than many of the villains they fought on a daily basis. What if he <em> is </em>still that person?? He can hear the voice. What if his carefully constructed restraint slips during a battle? </p><p>
  <em> What if one day I don’t stop that final blow? What if I’ve just been pretending this whole time? </em>
</p><p>“Habibi.” Raven calls out to him and he turns his head once more as she moves, folding her book and placing it aside. “Come here,” she murmurs. </p><p>Her hand reaches out to him and he leans forward just as she shifts one foot underneath her to sit up comfortably on the couch. With a wave of her hand the volume on the t.v. turns to a mere whisper, and the other hand that’s reaching out to him finds the back of his neck, tugging him even closer to her. Then she rests her forehead directly against his, and his eyes flutter shut as his nose brushes against hers. </p><p>All of a sudden he’s enveloped in solace. </p><p>“You are good.” She whispers, lips ghosting over his own. “I would know. I can feel you, remember?”</p><p>He breathes in deep, catching the peppermint shampoo of her hair. Her thumb strokes the back of his neck soothingly and he relishes in the feeling, allowing her calming empathy to sweep through him. </p><p><em> It’s almost funny how quickly she grounds me with just a few short words. </em>She had said so much more though, in the way that she held him.  </p><p>“I love you,” he whispers, smiling into the kiss that she presses against his lips. She responds in kind, humming into his mouth, “I love you too.” </p><p>
  <em> This concern won’t ever go away completely, but at least I have her by my side to help me through it. Watch over me, habibti. </em>
</p><p>“I know of something else that we can do to help put your mind at ease.” Raven’s voice drops to a low, husky sound that sends his heart racing.</p><p>“Oh?” he asks, mildly amused when she pulls away from him to push at his chest, and the back of his head hits the arm of the couch with a light thud when he falls. She follows. The sight of her, hovering over him with parted lips and hooded eyes is nothing short of divine beauty. <em> And she’s all mine. </em>“As long as it has nothing to do with that halfwitted cartoon,” he says as an added quip. </p><p>“I’m thinking of a more… hands on approach.” The smirk she throws him makes him chuckle. That is, until she straddles his waist and rocks into him languidly. Then it dissolves into a groan of pleasure.</p><p>“Whatever you think is best habibti.” </p><p>She draws closer to him with a smile, and he reaches up to thread a hand through soft, silky locks. </p><p>His last coherent thought before she takes precedence over all his senses is that if this is his reward for being good, then he’ll do whatever it takes to never be bad again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. #88 JayRae</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>'toxic vengeance'</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Pairing: JayRae</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Words: 2,296</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Rated M: Warnings for cuss words, graphic scenes of violence, and major angst.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When the knife slashes her thigh, it instantly feels like it’s on</span>
  <em>
    <span> fire.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With a hiss, she draws back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s as if someone pressed a red-hot branding iron to her leg, then twisted it deeper into the marred flesh for good measure—but instead of dulling, the burning sensation is growing at an alarming rate, spiraling up her entire leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another hooded figure dashes from her right, and with a wave of power she forces them back with a glittery black claw. They hit the nearest brick building with a thud. Another jumps from above to replace them, and she throws up a shield with her other hand, halting the strike of their sword in mid-air. More are filling the alley, coming from the shadows. The burning in her leg is now more of an afterthought as her adrenaline spikes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I need to end this now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Azarath. Metrion. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zinthos</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her power flares, and strikes through the figure, sending it back, along with the others in one large surge. There’s a series of grunts, followed by the clattering of weapons, before all she can hear is her own harsh breathing and blood from her heartbeat rushing in her ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amethyst orbs search the alley with skepticism, expecting another cohort to flood the street. Another minute of scouring, then she releases a breath when she’s certain it’s over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The attack had happened the second she turned the corner to investigate the stain of dark magic covering the adjacent building. She had been following whispered rumors of a rising national occult for weeks, eventually leading her to Crime Alley of all places.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A groan escapes one of the men. Her attention shifts to see him lying slumped against the wall, hood fallen. His face is covered in old ancient markings, confirming both the reasons for her suspicion and dread. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The marks of Scath. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It appears her father’s followers are growing in power. Now, she needs to find out why—and who is behind it.</span>
  <em>
    <span>They know who I am and purposefully drew me out here. This is more than I anticipated.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is their leader someone I know? Maybe Blood? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As the adrenaline begins to flow out of her body, she becomes keenly aware of the burning pain that’s replacing it. When the burning in her thigh flows down to her toes and up the side of her body, she realizes that her heart rate hasn’t slowed and neither has her breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing down at her leg, she curses at the blood flowing freely from the wound. It’s deep, and is now starting to bubble. A bright red streak grows across her leg—a clear sign of inflammation. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Poison. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s not one that she recognizes—nor is it one that her demon-half can expel. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not good. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the severity of her situation sets in, so does her panic, and she stumbles when another flare of pain sends her head spinning. She staggers over to the brick wall, laying one arm against her forehead. It’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s too late to call Nightwing or Batman; They wouldn’t be able to make it in time, and she doesn’t know if she has the capacity to transport herself to the cave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only a handful of other people she trusts that knows more than just the basics of toxicology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Black specks dance along her vision and she tries to blink them back, shaking her head with considerable effort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only one other option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the last of her failing strength, her eyes blind an iridescent white, and inky black tendrils snake around her, enveloping her into its depths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later they release her and she stumbles across the threshold into a musty apartment. It doesn’t help that it’s completely dark, and the pound of her heart now seems louder than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere within the confines someone curses loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her thoughts are becoming more clouded, and it’s getting harder to breathe. There’s a growing fervency to keep walking, and she does, intent to find him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A heat sizzles over her skin, heightening at her thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She whimpers, and her knees buckle—legs no longer able to support her weight. She’s so out of it she doesn’t even brace for the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches her before she hits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Raven. What happened to you?” His breath tickles her ear, and she shivers—though from his voice or her wound she’s not sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ambush. Poison.” She gasps through another wave of burning pain that shoots all the way up to her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another curse and she’s being lowered against his door as fingers begin to ghost over her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where? What kind?” He finds the wound and bright emerald eyes flare as they meet her. They swirl and morph into one before her eyes, and she blinks, swallowing back a sudden wave of nausea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alley…knife…I don’t know. I’ve never… ” she trails off, barely getting the words out as her shortness of breath increases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” an arm presses her shoulder back when she begins to slump over. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot</span>
  </em>
  <span> pass out on me princess. I need you to stay awake.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she says, slurring her words. She’s growing exceedingly dizzy and her vision is blurring faster. She can’t get enough air to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something jars her. “Raven, stay with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart feels like it’s going to tear and claw its way out of her chest, and for a moment she thinks it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It beats faster, and faster, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>faster.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rae, open your eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look</span>
  </em>
  <span> at me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then it stops. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Raven.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And all she knows is darkness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<em>
    <span>“Stand by. Preparing to shock.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a loud, involuntary gasp, and a charging whine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I swear to God you better not fucking die on me Rae.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<em>
    <span>“Evaluating heart rhythm… no shock advised. Continue CPR.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of pumping compressions fills the air. Green eyes</span>
  <em>
    <span> glow</span>
  </em>
  <span> as they glare at her prone figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Breathe </span>
  </em>
  <span>Goddammit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he bites his lip, it’s hard enough to draw blood, but at least he managed to blink back the sudden, unbidden tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries not to shake his hands when he hears her sternum crack underneath the heel of his palm. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<span>“What are you doing on this com-line Hood?” The growl in his ear is laced with caution, and he can’t blame him. At least he answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets to the point fast. “It’s Raven, she was poisoned. I don’t know what it is, but I think it’s systemic,” he pauses as the voice in his ear curses. “She’s coding Nightwing, get someone to my apartment </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s another tense pause as Dick listens to Jason’s sharp exhales coinciding with his compressions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one closest to the Alley, on 3rd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Z will come teleport us. AED?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason stops and sits back on his haunches as the defilibrator analyzes again. The machine’s response only heightens his fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No shock. Continuing CPR, it’s been a few minutes,” he swallows thick as he checks her carotid pulse again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>losing</span>
  </em>
  <span> her godammit, hurry the fuck up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On our way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He immediately cuts the transmission to focus on his task.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One, two, three, four, five...</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<span>He doesn’t know how much longer he’s been counting to thirty, just that he’s done it over and over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cacophony of motion behind him almost interrupts his concentration. Someone places a gloved hand on his shoulder with urgency. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She needs to be transported to the Watchtower as soon as possible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips press together firmly, then he nods. Allowing Zatanna to intervene, she envelopes the empath in her magic. They leave the AED pads attached. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In seconds, they’re gone. Then the others turn to follow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going with her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nightwing stills, eyes flicking to Batman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The resounding silence is near palpable. Nightwing takes a tentative step forward, breaking it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little wing… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fluorescent eyes shine with stone-cold defiance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t stop me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Batman grunts—the closest thing he’ll ever get to an affirmation. It’s a sizable achievement, but he doesn’t feel victorious at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s still in cardiac arrest, but if anyone can help her it’s Zatanna. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if there’s anyone that can overcome something like this it’d be her. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come on princess, come back to me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She codes three more times in the medbay. The crash team hovers as everyone else tirelessly searches for the right antidote. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know what to do with himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he watches her Nightwing briefs him on her mission. He listens. It’s a distraction. Then white hot anger licks and gnashes up his chest to his throat with each word until he’s fisting his hands tight to hide the tremors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I thought it might be Blood but assassins and poison isn’t really his style. Do you think the League could have something to do with this?” Nightwing asks beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His response is slow and level, revealing no hint of the turbulence of emotion that lies underneath, “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nightwing gives him a pensive stare, but says nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason narrows his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dead. They’re all fucking dead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<span>They’re able to create one an hour later. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits until she’s stable before slipping away. The teleporter still recognizes him as Robin, and he’s not sure what to think about that when he steps onto the platform. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Batman gives him a look that he acknowledges as both a warning and a threat; But why should he care? He lost respect for that man a long time ago, and doesn’t give two shits what he thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike Bruce, he’s not afraid to avenge those he cares about most through </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span> means necessary.</span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A piercing cry follows the crack of snapping bone. Another finger, broken. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That leaves seven more, and I’ve got all fucking night. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t ask again,” comes a growl, “I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>answers</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man’s panting is interrupted by a swift kick to the gut. He bends over with a groan, before he glares up at the Red Hood through one eye. The other is swollen shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I tell you? You’re just going to kill me anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hood hums, cocking his gun. “True, but it’ll hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>wayyy</span>
  </em>
  <span> less if you do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man spits at his boots, a mixture of saliva and blood. “Good luck. I won’t talk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A malicious grin grows from underneath Hood’s mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately for you, I don’t need it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<span>The hallway is empty, save for him and Nightwing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really it’s just a perfect place for a one-on-one scolding—and his brother clearly decides to take advantage of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have done that. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>retaliate. This is Ra’s we’re talking about.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason’s jaw clenches tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who knows how many supporters he’s managed to convince that Trigon can fix all of their </span>
  <em>
    <span>worldly</span>
  </em>
  <span> problems? He could call on all of them at any given moment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bares his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve made a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mess</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hood. It’s going to take months to clean up what you did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t stand it anymore. “Are you shitting me? I did you all a fucking favor,” he points a finger in Richard’s chest. “I found out more information in an </span>
  <em>
    <span>hour</span>
  </em>
  <span> investigating my way than you all did in weeks. If you’re not happy with my methods then do a better goddamned job covering your teammates.” He nearly chokes on that last word, attention drifting to the unmoving woman in the room across from them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick’s eyes follow and widen, then narrow just as fast, and he crosses his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have known Richard would figure it out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why even try to fucking deny it anymore?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he winces when his voice comes out raw. “I do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dick raises a brow, unapologetic. “She’s not going to like what you did either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jason doesn’t have the decency to look ashamed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders if she would have done the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<span>“The antidote stopped any further damage, but she remains comatose. We’ve deduced that her body’s gone into a healing trance to mend herself internally. There’s nothing else we can do but wait and continue to monitor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at her porcelain face, no longer resisting the urge to tuck a stray lock of indigo behind her ear. Even at rest her brows are furrowed—like she knows what’s coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits until he can no longer hear Zatanna’s echoing steps to draw closer to her, breathing in her familiar scent of incense and old books. It’s a welcome change from the sterile smell of antiseptic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really taking your time huh, sunshine? How rude of you, leaving me with these assholes,” he fingers another strand of hair before releasing it with a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.” He gives her a mock glare, half-expecting her to glower back. When she doesn’t he swallows, and takes another breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s one more thing I need to do… and I know you’re going to hate it, but I’m going to do it anyway.” He imagines pools of lavender, ablaze with fire, and a mouth already poised to argue with a vehemence that makes him smile in the present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be able to come back here after I finish, and I’m sorry I won’t be there when you wake up,” he takes her hand and squeezes. “But I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The incessant beeping of the machines she’s hooked up to is his only response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowers his face, and brushes his lips against the crown of her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking away from her is hard, and he almost turns back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t. </span>
</p>
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